


even heroes have a right to dream

by lostnoise



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove as Lois Lane, Billy Hargrove is His Own Warning, Daily Planet, Eleven | Jane Hopper as Supergirl, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Follows closely to the Lois/Clark/Superman dynamic, M/M, Metropolis (DCU), Pining, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington as Superman, This world has criminalized superpowers, just as a heads up, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnoise/pseuds/lostnoise
Summary: Steve has always worked hard to have a normal life. He's mild-mannered and unassuming from tiny-town Hawkins, Indiana - just a photographer for the Daily Planet whodefinitelydoesn't have powers. He’s content being ordinary and silently pining for the star reporter of the newspaper, the ruthless and stubborn Billy Hargrove.Then, his world is turned upside-down by a series of portals, monsters from another dimension, his new secret of being a superhero of Metropolis, and a girl with superpowers who holds the key to it all.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 90
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to dedicate this to my good friends (@confettidreamer, @imsyoursandthatsitwhatever, and @bambixxblue/moonlight_xx) for supporting me and cheering me on. You guys rock.
> 
> I also want to thank the wonderful and talented [hoegrove](https://hoegrove.tumblr.com)! [This](https://hoegrove.tumblr.com/post/614049659990818816/id-find-you-and-id-choose-you-inspired-by-you) amazing gifset inspired me entirely to write this fic. The concept that they choose each other in every universe, coupled with that second gif of Joe Keery wearing those glasses, really set my gears in motion to make this story happen.
> 
> I thought to myself, "He doesn't look that different with glasses on!" And then thought to myself, "How does anyone look at Clark Kent and NOT know he's Superman?" Thus, this was born.

Steve Harrington has a secret he doesn’t let too many people know. Well, pretty much the only people who _do_ know are his (adoptive) parents and his best friends, Dustin and Robin. Dustin found out because the kid is a sneaky little shit who can’t mind his own business. Robin knows only because she almost _died_ and Steve couldn’t have just stood there and watched her fall off the edge of the quarry late one summer afternoon when it’d just been the two of them hanging out.

Steve’s secret? He has fucking _super powers_.

Usually that kind of shit only ever happened to people in movies or, like, cartoons and comic books, right? And he’s only Steve Harrington from Hawkins, Indiana, an all around normal guy. He likes to keep things that way. The thing is, in a world like this one, Steve’s better off hiding his powers. He’d either get locked up in some triple-max slammer where they store all the _freaks_ like him, where he’d probably never see daylight again, get recruited to some sketchy as fuck government project that would ditch him in said triple-max prison if he stepped out of line, pulled into some villainous band of criminals, or straight up killed for having powers.

So Steve keeps it secret. Even has the biggest blabbermouth in the world, Dustin, pinky-promised to hell and back keeping the knowledge safe for him. 

To anyone else, anyone who isn’t Dustin or Robin or his hapless parents, Steve’s just a mild-mannered, glasses-wearing photographer; he _totally_ can’t fly, can’t lift shit a hundred times his own weight, can’t see through walls, can’t stop bullets with his _skin_.

Steve’s really trying hard for a normal life. By the time he graduates from Met U, by the skin of his teeth at that, he has a B.A. in photography under his belt and a minor in journalism, references from most of his professors, and a portfolio he’s constantly working on. He has a job he likes, and the city isn’t so bad. Steve can blend in here, with his hipster glasses, his hair pulled into a small, tight ponytail, and dressed like someone’s grandpa. He stays in Metropolis, though, because Dustin’s coming to Met U in the fall, and he and Robin have an apartment with an extra room thanks to the subleter who crapped out. It’s good, though, because they can all live together now.

It’s normal. A normal life.

It all changes when the sky rips open on a Tuesday, and otherworldly thunder and lightning cracks and sparkles from it. On that day, his only day off during the week, Steve pulls his beanie down, rips holes for his eyes and nose, and goes the fuck to work. The mask doesn’t last all that long, not with the kind of craziness he’s fighting, but he’s lost his glasses, and he’s long since lost the ponytail. His hair’s all wild around his face, and when some giant tentacle-thing bursts through the rippling portal, Steve adds another power to the list: fucking _laser vision_. Which, what the actual _fuck_?

In the madness, a teenage girl appears, flying a lot like he is - somehow she closes the portal in the sky with an outstretched hand and the power of her damn _mind_. Only gets a bloody nose for it.

It’s so cool to meet someone like him. They jet away together, land on the roof of some apartment building.

Her name is El, short for Eleven. She shows him the tattoo on her wrist. El is apparently an escapee of some crazy pseudo-government experiment trying to elicit mind powers in children to train them into weapons. (Like Steve said - in this kind of world, it’s better to hide your powers than flaunt them, for good or for evil.) Weirdly enough, the facility from which she escaped was in Hawkins, too. She knows Dustin, and she actually lives with Will and Ms. Byers and Jonathan. She’s friends with the rest of the party and is only in Metropolis because Joyce moved them to get away from Hawkins, to give El a new lease on life. She’s the daughter Joyce never thought she’d have, and Joyce is the mother El never thought possible.

After he asks her for the fifth time if El’s sure she’s okay, she laughs and calls him a mother hen. Steve can’t help but grin at that. He knows he has a tendency to… overdo it in caring for others. Not intentionally, obviously, but it’s just natural for him to fuss. It’s how he became friends with the kids, how he became their damn _babysitter_. So it’s just funny that El, who knows those kids, is friends with them, caught on to that very thing that kept Steve linked to the rest of the Hawkins teens.

They swap phone numbers and snapchat codes, then agree to meet up Friday evening for dinner at a diner nestled away on North Boulevard. He tells El that she might want to pick up a pair of glasses, and to wear her hair in a different style as a disguise, and she agrees that it’s a good idea.

When he gets back to the apartment that evening, Robin practically jumps him. He’s on the news but for some reason no one gets a clear photo of his face, and even in passing he’s not recognized. And Steve is a nobody, but _even_ _Robin_ says she didn’t know it was him until she watched him fighting and flying and recognized it from the times back in Hawkins. It doesn’t make any sense to him - Steve doesn’t think he looks that different with his hair loose, much less without the thin, gold-framed glasses, but apparently the rest of the world can’t recognize him.

Which is obviously for the best.

They can’t recognize El, either, about which Steve finds himself totally relieved.

He definitely has a soft spot for people younger than himself.

Robin plies him with questions, which he answers, and alcohol, which doesn’t affect him, until she’s buzzed and hanging off his back, limbs wrapped around him like a human koala, as he kind of hover-flies around the apartment. It’s something they do sometimes, and it’s as comforting for Steve as it is for Robin. It’s cute.

When he goes to the Daily Planet the next day, shuffles into his tiny cubicle, no one spares him a second glance. He’s got his spare glasses on, thicker-framed than his last pair, and his hair pulled back into his usual tiny ponytail, and no one spares him a second glance even though the mysterious duo from yesterday’s disaster is plastered all over the paper.

But, see, Steve’s cubicle is the smallest in the office but it’s the best for two reasons. 

The first reason is he has the only window that isn’t part of an actual office, with a door to close and room for more than just a desk, a chair, and a small filing cabinet. He keeps half a dozen plants in tiny pots on the windowsill, gets to indulge in the greenery and feel a little less like he’s in a cardboard box in someone’s basement the way all cubicles make him feel. With a window, he can see when the weather changes, when night falls, when the sun comes up on those too-long nights spent editing photos and spreads to perfection. He loves his window.

The second reason is that his desk faces the office of the Daily Planet’s top reporter, Billy Hargrove.

Billy is… a lot. He’s from southern California originally, and still has the tan and golden-brown curls to show for it, freckles spotting his cheeks. He’s intense, and confident, and kind of an asshole. …Okay, a lot of an asshole. He shoulder-checks people out of his way in the halls, doesn’t ever say thank you to the support staff. Steve has only ever heard Billy apologize once for making their colleague’s daughter cry. And that’s including the time Billy checked him in the hallway and Steve dropped his camera and it fucking _broke_. Billy knows what he’s good at - he’s top reporter for a reason, even being Steve’s age - and he kind of lets it go to his head.

But, to be honest, Steve is _totally_ into it.

Billy is an asshole and never says thank you or sorry, but he’s the Chief’s favorite because he’s the best goddamn journalist on staff — not to mention, fucking gorgeous. He’s got these eyes that make Steve’s heart beat faster in his chest. He’s got these arms that make Steve wanna watch him work out, because Steve _knows_ Billy does. And he’s got an ass that Steve catches himself staring at whenever Billy walks by.

Steve, unfortunately, is a nobody. And he’s cultivated that below-the-radar personality purposefully, but because he’s a nobody, Billy doesn’t give him more than a passing glance, and only when Billy absolutely needs a photographer for whatever story he’s working on. Even then, Billy makes it very apparent that every other photographer senior to Steve is busy, otherwise, _“I’d have asked someone with some actual_ experience _, Harrington.”_

Because Billy knows where exactly to dig in his claws and it fucking sucks. Steve doesn’t know why Billy is always such a bag of dicks, but whatever; Steve’s able to watch Billy relatively unscathed because Billy’s too focused on the next story, the next highlight, or the next hot piece that walks into the office.

The day after the attack, he gets settled into his work routine. Waters his plants, trades stories with Heather about their days off (they’re both off on Tuesdays, and even though he _fought some sort of alien thing_ just yesterday, he tells her about his night drinking with Robin), and gets down and dirty in photoshop.

An hour into the center spread for next week, someone raps their knuckles on the wall of his cubicle. When Steve looks up from the computer screen, face scrunched up from concentration, he sees Billy standing there looking _entirely_ unimpressed. Like he would love to be anywhere else but standing right there, about to ask Steve for something. Part of Steve wonders if he’s a bit of a masochist, for being so into Billy when Billy so obviously dislikes him.

“I need you to snap photos of the aftermath from yesterday,” Billy says, eyes already falling away from Steve and onto some report in his hands. Steve pushes his glasses up his nose. “Hop has me writing the main article about this superhero guy and that superhero girl, too. And _you_ , Harrington, are going to help me.”

Steve wishes he could, for once, make some sort of smart comment. Like, _“I’m already working on a project that’s due tomorrow,”_ or, _“Couldn’t you rope one of the interns into being your bitch?”_ or even, _“Who the hell do you think you are?”_

But no, Steve doesn’t have the guts to say anything like that. What he’s doing right now is _boring_ , for the Sports section, and as much as he enjoys playing them, arranging and editing sports photos is irritating, and it’s due tomorrow. So, he just sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, gives Billy this long-suffering glare, but Billy’s too engrossed in the report, doesn’t spare Steve a second look after _demanding_ , fucking declaring Steve’s participation in whatever project Billy has cooking.

“Okay,” Steve drawls, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks up at Billy and takes a moment to look while Billy flips through the pages, skimming for the highlights as he reads faster than Steve could ever hope. Billy reads fast, but Steve takes him in faster.

Billy’s got that dangling earring in again - probably got hit on recently and is trying to play up the appeal. His hair is pulled back today to show it off, too, and for Steve? It really only emphasizes the texture of his hair, how _blonde_ it shines in the sun glinting through the windows, how _long_ it hangs past his shoulders. When Steve’s got no other choice but to take lunch at his desk, he thinks about how it’d feel to run his fingers through that golden hair. Daydreams impossible scenarios where Steve saves Billy from some crazy villain and Billy would smile, would thank him, would _kiss_ him, instead of the reality of it all.

The reality is, Steve would probably get Billy stuck in the middle of something. Steve would get Billy kidnapped and held hostage, or even _worse,_ get him fucking _killed_. Steve’s got super powers, but he can’t, like, predict the future. It’d be just his luck that he wouldn’t be able to save Billy from whatever bullshit Steve got him into, especially unknowingly. And who’s to say Billy wouldn’t take one look at the real Steve, behind the camera, behind the computer, behind the stupid glasses and grandpa clothing and hair pulled tight into something more _presentable_ , and just run away? Who’s to say Billy would even want to be around Steve if he knew Steve had these powers, that he wouldn’t turn Steve over to the police or the courts or whatever, that Billy wouldn’t be integral in bringing Steve down?

Steve sighs. He must be a fucking masochist for how much he lets Billy drag him along. It’s not even that he thinks he has a chance with _Billy Hargrove_ , but it’s more that Billy doesn’t even really treat him like a colleague. Steve is more of a means to an end than anything else, at least in Billy’s eyes.

He looks out his window. The Daily Planet, from this side of the building, has a great view of downtown.

“Just photos of the aftermath?” Steve asks, wanting clarification on what Billy needs.

Billy is the type who gives a general theme and then, after Steve’s already spent an entire morning taking photos, makes the topic of the story ultra-specific to the point where Steve then also has to spend the _whole afternoon_ tracking down the right subject matter on which to focus. It’s happened more than once. More than five times, really, and Billy’s one of the most difficult reporters to work with, and he has a _reputation_ at the Daily Planet, but Steve is so weak for him that, even when he knows what he’s getting into, he doesn’t _really_ mind.

Billy shrugs, looking back to his office across the walkway like he’d rather be anywhere but in front of Steve Harrington, the nerdy photographer, asking for his help in the article that is, in some ways, about Steve himself. It kind of hits Steve right in the chest when he thinks about it like that, hits him hard and makes his heart hurt with each thump behind his sternum.

“Yeah, it’s like-” and Billy waves a hand around, almost like he doesn’t know how to put what he’s looking for into words. And won't bother trying to find the words to explain. _Go figure_.

“What are you writing about, Hargrove?” Steve asks, direct and to the point in a way he usually isn’t. As much as he’s weak for Billy, he does have some sense of self-preservation. Chief might want something specific from Billy, but Chief has his own demands of Steve as well and Steve likes his job, his desk, his _normal life_ , enough that he’s not about to let _Billy_ of all people stomp it all out given the chance.

“The attack yesterday, Harrington, _Christ_ , didn’t I say this already?”

“What spin are you going for?” Steve rolls his eyes as he tries his question from a different angle. He pushes his fingers up under the glasses to rub at his eyes. It’s a blessing in disguise that Billy interrupted him, because Steve’s needed a break for the past half hour, needs to drink some water and walk to one of the balconies for some fresh air, maybe stare at his plants and fuss with them a little. “Good, evil, panic mode? Are you writing about the destruction, or are you writing about the good being done, or the government’s non-reaction to an obvious crisis of international proportions?”

It’s a quote from Billy’s recent article about the current administration’s standards around environmental policies that even had Steve Harrington, the guy who missed most references because he just didn’t get them, on edge reading it. Steve isn’t the greatest reader, but he tries, and he’s always asking Robin to translate words or phrases for him to understand.

(Does Steve read all of Billy’s pieces? He does. He absolutely does. And Billy’s featured in every single edition of the Daily Planet. Beyond Steve’s stupid _crush_ on Billy Hargrove, Steve finds Billy’s work ethic impressive, and Billy’s overall journalism is incredible.)

Billy, for his part, looks startled at Steve’s questions. He looks up, as if only just remembering where he is, what conversation he’s having, that _Steve is still right there_. Steve doesn’t usually ask questions. Doesn’t usually engage past agreeing to whatever Billy asks him to do. But Steve doesn’t have time to fuck around, not with the spread due tomorrow, and a new secret superhero identity to conceal, and dinner with El on Friday.

“Um,” Billy says, and Steve watches him collect himself before he actually closes the report. “I’m writing about the vilification and wrongful imprisonment of superpowered humans by highlighting the overall good they do.”

“Okay…” Steve says, drawing the word out, because that sentence is a lot to unpack for him and Robin’s not here to translate. He became a photography major for a reason. Billy’s probably read, like, Shakespeare and Chaucer, whoever they are. Steve knows a little Shakespeare. Well, he’s seen ‘Shakespeare in Love.’ “So you’re looking for a good kind of aftermath.”

“Thanks for boiling it down, genius,” Billy mumbles under his breath, and Steve needs a break. He needs to get lunch. He needs to get his fucking priorities straight.

“Whatever, Hargrove, when do you need it by?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he replies, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Think you can handle that, pretty boy, or do you need me to hold your hand?”

_Yes_ , he thinks, _Please do that._

“You realize I’d have to do that _today_ and stop all my other projects assigned to me by Hopper due _tomorrow_ in order to _help_ you,” Steve states because he’s _not fucking around_ about this. “And I’m sure you already have a piece written that you ran this morning about it, and that you’re almost done whatever you have to run tomorrow.”

“Well duh, Harrington, this is the hottest topic Metropolis has ever had in _years_! We haven't had a vigilante hero in over twenty years, and Hop wants me to cover it from every angle I can,” Billy tells him. “Tomorrow evening, then?”

“I’ll email you the photos and you can pick the ones you want edited. Edited photos to be delivered the next morning.”

“Deal. Nice doing business with you, Harrington.”

And he walks back to his office, closes the door, and spends the rest of the day reading from the report and typing away on his computer.

Steve takes a small break, goes outside for some air, gets a drink from the water cooler and shoots the shit with Tammy from accounting. Then he really buckles down to finish and submit the spread for Sports, editing the photos for Brad’s foodie piece, and runs through all his emails. Sends one off to Hopper to tell him that he’s working with Billy so Hopper doesn’t try to overwhelm him with more projects thinking he’s done with two of them. He takes a late lunch, spends it snapping photos and sending them to El, getting photos of her with dog ears or all sparkly in return. They settle on a place not far from the Daily Planet which will be good for him.

Because he’s going to spend all day tomorrow on this little project. It’ll be worth it, though, to see his photos with Billy’s words.

(If he has a folder in his bookmarks with links to each of Billy’s articles that feature Steve’s photography, well, no one else has to know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment or kudo!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a chapter long in the process. I’m working through the requests for my top surgery stuff, but this chapter has been written since before I posted the first chapter! (The first four chapters are actually complete but need editing, and I self-edit because I don’t have an official beta I work with. Any volunteers??)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Steve meets El at Benny’s Burgers, a tiny hole-in-the-wall diner that Steve’s been coming to since he moved to Metropolis. It’s apparently been family-owned-and-operated since 1956, which is pretty impressive. Steve loves it because the menu is literally all-day; if he wants a burger for breakfast, or an omelet for dinner, then he can order that, no questions asked.

“Hey Ellie,” he murmurs when she walks over to him, and he gives her a tentative hug which she responds to kindly, though stiffly.

“Hey Steve,” she whispers back to him, giving him an equally tentative smile to match the hug. It’s obvious she’s not used to casual affection like this but she seems to like it anyway.

He and El tuck themselves into a booth in the back corner, somewhere private and out of the way.

She took his advice and is wearing her hair with a tiny ponytail on top of her head and a pair of thick-framed glasses. Steve, on seeing her for the first time _disguised_ , maybe understands why people can’t recognize them with so little effort. He nearly didn’t know it was her until he saw her shy little smile when she approached him outside on the sidewalk.

El somehow convinces Benny to make her a custom burger - maybe because the diner’s unusually dead at 8:00 on a Friday, maybe because she’s so endearing. Probably a mix of both. Her order ends up being one half of a belgian waffle split into two quarters for the bun, a little patty topped with bacon and cheddar cheese, and the whole Franken-sandwich smothered in maple syrup.

It sounds kind of delicious, actually, but Steve gets his usual triple decker three-cheese grilled cheese with a side of fries and a chocolate malt milkshake. It’s his tried and true order.

While Benny prepares their food in the kitchen, Steve looks across at her sipping on a sweet tea. She looks, for all intents and purposes, like a normal girl. Just like Steve looks like a normal guy. It’s funny, thinking about “normal lives” when they’re both living anything but normal lives… when the world is anything but normal. Normal worlds don’t have portals, or destructive monsters, or people with superpowers. He’d been playing with his milkshake, not really drinking it, when he exhales softly and knocks his knuckles on the table lightly to get her attention.

“We should talk about the other day,” he says quietly, eyes on the front door behind her to make sure no one walks in. Benny’s loud enough that Steve can track him just fine.

“Yeah,” she replies, just as quietly as he spoke, then lets out this small sigh and looks at Steve nervously. “Where did you get your… powers?”

“I don’t know… I was born with them, I guess. I’ve had them as long as I can remember.” He swallows and pushes his finger through the condensation on the table from the metal cup filled with the rest of his milkshake. “My parents- I should say my adoptive parents, but they raised me- well, they found me in the woods behind their house, in a- in some sort of, um, vehicle? It looks like a spaceship. My dad showed it to me when I turned 18, before I moved here and started college. Honestly, I don’t know a thing about where I come from.”

“Sometimes it’s better not to know,” she says sadly. He doesn’t want to push her; who knows how traumatic her upbringing had been? “My papa… did this to me.” She looks out the window to her left, eyes looking nowhere into the distance. “He only saw me as a weapon. A thing to mold and shape into what he needed me to be.”

“El,” he whispers softly, reaches across the table to put his hand over hers where it’s causing the glass to shake and spill drops of sticky-sweet tea over her fingers and the table. She looks back at him, startled out of whatever reverie in which she’d been caught. “You’re not there anymore. You’re in Metropolis. And I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

“And I’ll protect you,” she promises, giving him that small smile again.

He squeezes her hand before he leans back and pulls a copy of the Daily Planet out of his messenger bag. Steve tosses it onto the table between them. Unsurprisingly, they’re front page news: it’s one of Billy’s articles featuring a photo from the fight on Tuesday with the portal monster thing; the photo captures the portal, a shadow of the world beyond it, and the two figures fighting in the sky - El and Steve, unbeknownst to anyone besides each other. Their faces, thankfully, are blurred just enough that they’re indistinguishable.

“They’re calling us Superman and Supergirl,” Steve says, tapping a finger along the headline. _New Heroes Emerge to Save Metropolis from Interdimensional Invasion._ Billy likes his long headlines. “We’re superheroes, Ellie.”

She smiles at the nickname he’s given her, or at being heroes, or maybe it’s from them being dubbed Superman and Supergirl - Steve likes all three, too. “Let them call us what they want. No more fights.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Don’t like to fight,” she answers. Her face looks pained, and that faraway look comes back.

“You don’t have to, Ellie,” comes his reply, and Steve hopes he looks as earnest as he feels. He hates that look on her face. “You won’t have to fight, I promise.”

“Don’t have to. But I need to. I have people to protect.”

“Hey, then you can make me a promise, okay? You won’t fight without me. If anything happens, we’ll contact each other and come up with a meeting spot,” Steve proposes, lifting his hand up and sticking his pinky out towards her. “Pinky promise me, El.”

She hesitates for a moment, surprised by his words and the gesture, and for a second he thinks he’s being dumb, or that he didn’t think this through because what if she doesn’t know what a pinky promise is? But then El is smiling and reaches out to twine their pinkies together. 

“Promise,” she agrees, squeezing their fingers together.

Steve’s grinning back at her when three people walk into the diner. He looks over El’s shoulder, smile drooping when he catches the newcomers staring at them. Not just looking, but _staring_. Almost glaring with the intensity. They’re all wearing button-downs and blazers, hair neat and tidy… completely out of place here.

A blonde woman, older, steps forward with a kind smile on her face. “Hi, do you work here?”

Steve stands and slips from the booth, shaking his head. He crosses his arms over his chest. “No, but if you take a seat I’m sure-”

But before he can finish his sentence, the woman is pulling a _fucking gun_ from her pocket and raising it towards him. He’s startled, and he blames that on having a gun drawn on him in the middle of a diner.

“What the fuck?!” Steve knows it’s an ineloquent reply, but what else does someone say to having a gun aimed at them?

The gun goes off and there must be a silencer or something because it makes almost no noise as a bullet hits his only other pair of glasses and the frame is split in half, the lense of one side shattered. God, he’s so glad he ordered new glasses already, but now he’ll have to get store-bought cheaters. Great. He hates cheaters. His hair-tie snaps open and his hair falls into his face. Another click of the gun and a bullet hits the skin of his cheek, then ricochets off of him to go right through the window behind one of the guys who walked in with her, and it shatters loudly in the otherwise quiet. He hopes Benny didn’t hear that...

Steve looks up, sans glasses and hair-tie, and the woman gasps. 

“ _You_ ,” she hisses, and her face twists into something akin to rage.

He feels dread filling his stomach like a lump of ice and gulps thickly. El, in the meantime, has turned around in the booth and stands up, moving behind Steve as if to bolster him. Her face turns as white as the formica tabletops Benny keeps so pristine.

“Franzier,” El says, and the woman narrows her eyes.

“Eleven,” she drawls, her gun aimed steadily at Steve. “Your father has been worried absolutely _sick_ about you. He sent us all the way to Metropolis to bring you home.”

The man fires this time and it hits Steve in the stomach, bounces off after tearing through his sweater. 

“God damn it, this is a new sweater,” he complains aloud, looking back at El with a mix of incredulity and surprise.

 _‘On three,’_ her voice resounds in his head, and his eyes widen. She’s telepathic too?!

 _‘Nice, Ellie,’_ he thinks and she smirks a little at his reply, just a twitch of her lips that Steve barely notices.

_‘One…’_

“We’ll have to bring you with us,” the woman tells him. It’s condescending, like he’s a fucking child instead of an adult with a college degree, a job, an apartment, a whole entire life. “Given your… abilities. You simply _must_ understand.”

_‘Two…’_

“I understand that you’re being a giant dick right now,” he responds instead, and he can see El trying not to grin at his sass. “But don’t worry. I won’t come easily.”

_‘Three.’_

Steve rushes forward, making his body as big as possible to protect Eleven behind him. Even with the silencers, it’s a bit of a ruckus, the sound of all the bullets bouncing and hitting the tables, the chairs, the walls and ceiling. He punches the one guy through the front window and sends him flying across the street into a brick building where he folds into a broken heap on the sidewalk.

Steve and El fly through the open window and hover outside on the empty street waiting for the second goon and _Franzier_ to follow them. The two armed strangers give chase when they zoom down to an empty alleyway a block down and over from Benny’s.

They’re seemingly cornered, because Steve’s not as familiar with this area in town, has never had to lose someone or taunt them into a fight before. High school and college never prepared him for _this_.

The goon and Franzier start shooting into the dimly lit space without any rhyme or reason Steve moves forward, trying to take all the damage, and a few bullets manage to ricochet off of him. But it doesn’t take long for a pained gasp to ring out behind him; Steve turns, sees little Ellie clasping her shoulder as blood bubbles up between her pale fingers.

He’s somewhat ashamed to admit that he sees red. Only somewhat, because Steve is already feeling so protective of this honest, sweet girl who has so much power at her fingertips. He rushes forward to tackle both of them, head down and arms out to catch them around the middle. Steve knocks the wind from them, knocks the guns from their hands too. They fall to the street, and Steve focuses on the guy, pulls a punch that still sends his body into the fire escape; it bends and dents behind him, and the guy is out for the next few hours, probably, if not more.

Steve winces at the sight.

Franzier rises while Steve’s busy, grabs her gun, and trains it on his head. “No sudden movements,” she barks out.

Before Steve can have a moral dilemma about hitting a woman so directly, not just tackling her out of the way, Franzier wails in agony and drops the gun to clutch her head instead before she, too, crumples to the ground, passed out. Turning around, he sees El standing there with her free arm outstretched and the beginnings of blood around one nostril.

“Ellie,” he breathes and rushes forward to grab her, holding her carefully as he flies them back to the diner. He has to grab his phone and his keys at the very least; he can’t leave so much evidence behind. They come in through the busted out front window and land right in time for Benny, standing in the middle of the mess with two plates in his hands, to see them.

Steve’s face falls because he’s been so careful, so good about being safe, being secretive… but when people are in danger, there’s no way he can keep himself from helping someone. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone getting hurt when he could have stopped it.

“What the- _Superman_?!” Benny says, stunned, then continues, squinting at the pair of them, “Supergirl? Is that you?” He blinks again, mouth dropping open in complete surprise. “Fuck, _Steve and Ellie_? You’re Superman and Supergirl?!”

“Shhh!” Steve hushes him, looking out the open window with worried eyes. “Listen, there’s a lot that you’re just not aware of Benny. You can’t- you need to- we could-”

“Words, Steve,” El says from between gritted teeth. “Use your words.”

“Take El into the kitchen and get the wound washed out,” Benny instructs, looking at the carnage left behind in his restaurant. “Give me a moment to call the cops, and we can-”

“Benny, we can’t be here when the cops come,” Steve pleads with him. “I don’t have glasses to disguise myself, man, I can’t- I can’t go to jail, okay? I’ve worked so hard to keep myself hidden, I can’t…”

Benny reaches out to grab Steve’s forearms and holds him there, looking into his eyes. “Steve, take a breath. It’ll all be okay. I’m not turning you over to the police. I wouldn’t do that.” He looks between them, then sighs and leads them into the kitchen. Underneath one of the plastic-and-rubber mats lining the floor is a cellar door. Benny rips it open and helps them both down the stairs to an _elevator_ of all things.

“How the hell do you have all this built under your restaurant?!”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, kid,” Benny says grimly. “Let’s… let’s go downstairs. I’ll help fix up El, and _then_ I can deal with the police.”

Benny helps them into the elevator and presses the button for 4. It empties them into an underground bunker of a home. It’s mostly a hallway with a sitting room, a couple of bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom, but once they’ve gotten El’s wound washed and a bandage wrapped around it, Benny grabs three beers and leads them to the sitting room. He pops the first one open and hands it, surprisingly, to El, who gives him a small smile.

“Don’t go making a habit of drinking after getting injured,” he tells her, wagging a finger in her direction. “I really shouldn’t be giving you _anything_ , young lady, but after getting shot… well.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Store’s shut down for the night, obviously, but I have to get back up there soon to call the cops.”

“Benny… who are you?” Steve finally asks, fingernail scratching and picking at the paper label on the bottle. He’s nervous. How the hell does Benny have all of this?

Benny sighs and takes a long pull from his beer bottle. “Well, it’s a long story. Stay here. I have to close up and call the police and then I’ll be back.”

Two hours later, Benny tells them the story. Benny’s brother, James, had superpowers, too. 

He’d been a hero of Metropolis until the Powered Peoples Registry Initiative Act came to be in the ‘90s. It put powered people behind bars, made them into criminals to keep isolated and imprisoned for the rest of their lives. Benny hasn’t seen his brother since he was arrested in ‘98, and his brother’s been in prison almost longer than Steve has been alive. Benny then confesses to having some minor powers - not enough to be a superhero himself, but enough that he was his brother’s right hand back in the day taking care of everything behind the scenes.

“I don’t think I could keep up with _all_ the tech these days, but I’m still pretty good at it, and I’m handy with a sewing machine,” he admits with an embarrassed smile on his face. While they’re still there, he takes their measurements and gives them slices of chocolate silk pie and they agree to meet up that weekend when Benny takes his usual day off on Sundays.

“Thank you.” El words are quiet and heartfelt. Her arm is wrapped up and suspended in a pale blue sling that makes her look all the more dainty for wearing it. “I don’t know what to do. That was my… it was my papa’s people.”

“Your papa?” Steve asks quietly, reaching out to rub her back in gentle circles. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Ellie.”

“I need to, Steve,” she breathes out, her dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His heart catches on the next beat and he feels it ache for her. She’s so sweet and seems to carry the whole world on her shoulders. “He’s the reason I have powers, you know? He’s why… Steve, he has a secret contract with the government to create people like us, people with powers. And me? I’m his best creation yet.” She takes a deep breath and a single tear falls down her cheek. “He’ll keep coming for me, Steve. He’ll never stop.”

“We’ll protect you,” Steve tells her, looking over at Benny who nods in agreement. “El, we’re- we’re family now. I’ve got your back.”

“You got my back?” she repeats, confused, and Steve chuckles softly, reaches over to hold her hand gently.

“It means I’ll protect you. We’ll both protect you, however we can. Your papa will only get you over my dead body.”

El smiles through the tears at Steve’s declaration, and Steve smiles back encouragingly.

“Got your back,” she whispers, squeezing Steve’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a kudo and/or a comment! Constructive feedback is also encouraged.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no rhyme nor reason to these updates, but I get excited every time I finish writing a chapter. I was telling a friend earlier today that I like to have a couple chapters written ahead so I have some buffer time to edit and rewrite and all that fun writing process stuff. I got super excited earlier when I finished the fifth chapter which, so far, is my favorite. For now, enjoy chapter 3!

Hopper calls Steve into his office the morning after the fight at Benny’s to talk with Steve.

The whole conversation is awkward and stilted because Hopper, for all that he means well, has horrible people skills but is an amazing journalist and runs the paper in the same way a drill sergeant commands a troop of soldiers. It’s how the Planet has taken off and done so well in an era where print and newspapers have started to fail. Steve gets thanked for taking photos for a piece about _himself_ , gets thanked for doing the rest of his job and getting his assignments in on time and for how responsible he is, gets told he has a lot of potential. He leaves feeling flustered and awkward and incredibly fond of Hopper.

Hopper is a sort of father figure for Steve, the kind of man Steve looks up to since his father is all the way back in Indiana and, honestly, didn’t take much part in raising him. Neither had his mom. They were very… hands off, if that’s what you would call traveling abroad for six months out of the year, traveling domestically for another five, and being home with their only son for all of a month spread out on weekends back home. Steve loves his parents, he does, and he’s very grateful for them, but he can’t help how they always left him wanting for a parental figure.

He takes a moment to look at his little collection of greenery on the windowsill. Smiles and grabs a water bottle from his drawer to water the ones looking a little dry and hums softly as his fingers dance over the small pots.

Steve’s photos for Billy’s piece are on the very front page of the newspaper. It’s a lot to take in, and he’s really happy even with how weird it all is.

He didn’t expect that having a secret identity, being a superhero for Metropolis, would feel so strange and would equate to being pulled in two directions - one of being known and one of being unknown. Watering his plants helps to ground him a little, gives him something else to concentrate on.

It’s been three days since he and El met at Benny’s, got patched up, and learned all about Dr. Brenner and his experiments on _kids_. Steve and Benny drank another two beers apiece as El recounted her time in Brenner’s lab, the training she’d received, what Brenner’s plans were.

Creating kids with superpowers to fill the army with super-soldier-types that would make the United States the leading power in the world.

It’s incredibly fucked up.

El was in tears by the time she finished and Steve held her under his arm for a solid ten minutes while she calmed down and Benny promised he would help however he could. Starting, apparently, by making them costumes.

“Uniforms,” Benny had snapped at him. “Call it a uniform or no more pancakes, ever.”

The memory, thankfully, brings a smile to Steve’s face as he finishes with his plants. He’s knocked out of the reminiscing by the loud sound of a newspaper slapping down on his desk, followed by a body sitting on the corner of it. When Steve looks up, it’s Billy, because of course it’s Billy; it’s almost like Billy has a sixth sense about him to discern when Steve’s in a weird mood. It’s a Monday and Steve just wants a calm start to the week. Is that so much to ask for?

“I got us on the front page,” Billy smirks, all self-satisfied and tonguing at his teeth. “And you acted like it was such a hassle to help me out. Have you ever gotten on the front page before, pretty boy?”

Steve ignores the thrill that sparks through his stomach at the taunt. It shouldn’t feel so good to be made fun of by someone you’re crushing on. _And yet_ , here he was. “Twice before. With you. I don’t recall you gloating this much _then_.”

He gives Billy a pointed look and Billy splutters in a way he never does, crosses his arms over his chest defensively and Steve hides a smirk by taking the newspaper up and looking at it. _Stories from the Citizens: Metropolis’s Hero_. It’d been humbling, taking photos of the places where he’d helped stop someone from getting hurt by fighting the tentacle thing. The sign he’d helped from crashing on an old lady, and the old lady herself standing in front of it, stands out on the front page. Steve swallows looking at it. He’d been choked up when he went to meet her, too - this cute grandmother from El Salvador with the curliest white hair and the most pleasant smile, talking in heavily accented English about how amazing that Superman had been, how strong and fast, how she owed him her life. The sign stood a little askew from what it had been; Steve knows because he frequented the restaurant every Thursday and Friday for Happy Hour after work. And the owners were thankful that he’d saved their restaurant.

So, yeah. It’s all been overwhelming having a secret identity. 

“This is probably the biggest story that the Planet has ever put out-”

“I think it’s cute you went for a nicer angle,” Steve commented, cutting Billy off as he flipped to page 8 and 9 where the rest of the story was printed. There were a few more photographs peppered through the article. _“This unknown man, and unknown woman, are to thank for saving our city from ruin. Whoever you are, thank you from the very bottom of our hearts. Metropolis extends its gratitude to you - our Superman and our Supergirl.”_ Steve looks up at Billy halfway through the quote, already having read the article, and a smile tugs the side of his mouth. “Really nice, man.”

“Shut up,” Billy grumbles, looking away. But Steve sees the tinge of red in his cheeks and ducks his own head in affectionate amusement. Billy is just so _cute_. “Anyway. Thanks and all. I heard Hopper’s considering you for a promotion.”

“He- what?!” Steve asks, perking up in both confusion and excitement alike. He’s sure he has to look funny, hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail and looking at Billy with wide, wild eyes. “Hargrove, what did you just say?”

Billy smiles all slow and devious, a glint in his eye. “He didn’t tell you this morning?”

Steve scrubs his brain for the conversation he’d just had with Hopper - there were mentions of Steve being responsible, and having so much potential, and asking if he felt comfortable taking on more in his role. He runs over the words again and again, until it finally dawns on him.

“I got promoted,” Steve breathes out in surprise. Laughs a little.

“Promoted to partners with me,” Billy corrects him, tapping Steve’s temple a couple of times to get his attention.

“Promoted to-” he begins, and his voice has a dreamy quality that he immediately snaps out of. “Wait, what?!”

“You heard me, pretty boy.” Billy’s smile is as smug as Steve’s ever seen it, eyes practically gleaming with his entertainment from Steve’s confusion. “You should clean out your desk. They’re giving us a bigger office on the next floor up. I’ve been working on mine all morning.”

Steve leans back to look past Billy and into Billy’s office; he’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, between Hopper’s praise and the fight at Benny’s and his new identity as a fucking _superhero_ , that he didn’t notice all the boxes stacked up and the door open wide. He looks up at Billy, whose smug smirk has softened a little into a smile.

“It won’t be so bad sharing with me, right?” Billy asks, and he almost sounds nervous, like the answer will be yes, that it would be so bad sharing.

Steve’s tempted to say yes, because for Steve it’s gonna be damn near torture to be so close to Billy every goddamn day.

“Bigger office,” Steve says instead, looking at his very small space. “That’s enough to get excited about.”

Billy laughs softly, without that cruel tone he so often adopts, and stands back up with an exaggerated sigh. “Anyway, get your shit together and meet me up there after lunch. News waits for no man.”

His desk won’t take that long, but after side-eyeing Billy’s office, Steve realizes Billy needs the time for his own office, packing away all the files in his cabinets to transfer upstairs, the knick-knacks stashed on his desk and his book shelf. Steve wonders what the office upstairs looks like.

“I’ll see you later Hargrove,” Steve laughs, shaking his head.

The office has two black name-plates on it. He’s got a box full of files in his arms so he can’t reach out and trace the letters spelling out his own name. _Steve Harrington_ , printed in gold right beneath the one reading _Billy Hargrove_. Fuck.

The office is a large space blocked off by floor-to-ceiling glass walls with those vertical blinds his parents put on the sliding glass door back home in Hawkins, the kind that always bent and broke and the kind Steve hates so much. He might see about installing curtains instead, with one of those wand-draw-things that would make it so easy to open and close them. Steve claims one of the desks, unplugs the computer and cables, and moves them to a side table so he can shift the desk over towards one of the two large windows. It takes him less time to move the furniture around than it did for him to carefully unplug all the electronics. When he steps back, the desk is perfectly placed with this nice view of downtown from a slightly different angle - higher up, a longer view. It’s so nice. Steve starts setting up the computer to the closest outlet, and puts the plants up on the end of his desk instead of needing to take up the windowsill itself. He unloads the files in one box into one of the cabinets closest to his desk, puts some of the things he’d kept in his desk out on top of it, rearranges some of the things on one of the bookshelves.

All in all, he’s done by eleven so he can finish up the last of his projects, and that’s when Billy starts hauling boxes into the office two at a time. After the third trip, Billy leaves as if to get more and Steve frowns. “Fuck, dude, how many more do you have? Do you need help?”

And that’s how he gets roped into helping Billy move his boxes up to their new office. He’s accrued a surprising amount of things in the three years he’s worked for the paper. After a few trips for both of them, Steve is sweating and it’s lunch hour. 

“Do you want me to grab you something while I’m out?” Steve asks, wiping his brow, and looks at Billy.

“Are you going to that restaurant Superman saved again?”

Steve winces; he had hoped he wasn’t being obvious about it, but the place is delicious and he wants to support them after giving his superhero alter ego a glowing review. “Yeah, La Pupusa. But I can pick up something else if-”

“No, no, they have great food, and they got me another front page spread,” Billy says, unloading a box of files into one of the cabinets. “I’ll take the pork pupusas, a combo meal, with yucca fries as my side.”

“And a large Coke?”

“How’d you know?” Billy looks over his shoulder with a curious sort of smile, one eyebrow raising.

Steve licks his lips. Thinks maybe… just maybe he could say something now, but… they’ve only just become partnered with each other, and Billy hardly ever gives him a second glance. He can’t screw this up now that he’s gotten himself a sweet deal. A good office, a good partner who makes some of the best work on the paper. As much as he wants, _has wanted_ , Billy since their internship with the Daily Planet in freshman year, having this partnership with Billy is an opportunity he can’t fuck up. He rubs the back of his neck, then tightens the small ponytail a little as a nervous habit.

Looking at Billy, Steve shrugs his shoulders all casually.

“Lucky guess.”

Billy snips at him over dinner that evening, both of them pulling the extra hours, when Steve sends yet another snap of his food to El; he got chicken empanadas and he can’t stop taking photos of them steaming in the cardboard takeout container. Poor El sends him drooling emojis because Joyce made spamburger helper again and even Will looks unenthusiastic about the meal in the photo El takes of the dinner table, Will and Jonathan sitting across from her. Steve is snickering at the photo of Will making a face at the camera while Joyce’s back is turned towards the kitchen in the background when Billy speaks up.

“Are you texting your girlfriend or something?” he asks from across the office sitting at his own desk. Billy violently stabs a yucca fry into the spicy dip the restaurant sells on the side, the kind Steve knows Billy loves and the kind Steve got for him without having to be asked.

Because Steve is absolutely weak for Billy, and can’t do a goddamn thing about it.

“No,” Steve laughs, head thrown back at the mere suggestion. “No, she’s a- a family friend. Her name is El. Ellie. She’s like a sister to me. I went to school with her older brother and babysat her younger brother. Her mom - Joyce - made hamburger helper again. Well- no, _spamburger helper_.”

Billy winces and Steve snickers again, going into a full-blown belly laugh when he catches Billy smiling and shaking his head in amusement. Steve shows the photo of Will making a face and can’t stop giggling, scrunches his nose up at the thought of _spamburger helper_. Hears Billy let out this soft chuckle that makes Steve’s stomach go all warm and fuzzy.

Even pulling that little amount of genuine laughter from Billy without it being at Steve’s expense makes him feel like he’s won something big.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please think about leaving a kudo or a comment to let me know. They're really encouraging and always make me smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished writing chapter six, you guys! Officially halfway through the story! I have three other WIPs I’m working through so I hope the next chapter will be out soon, but don’t hold me to that.
> 
> Honestly, I don’t think you guys are ready for this chapter 😏
> 
> Lights, camera... ACTION!

Steve feels grateful that nothing exceptional happens for two weeks. There are no new portals, no new disasters - just boring, normal things at work for Steve and boring, normal things at school for El. She’s graduating in the next month, finally, which also means Dustin will be moving into the apartment with Steve and Robin soon. Steve can’t wait to have his little brother by his side once more.

It also gives him time to settle into his new role at the Planet… because working alongside Billy is honestly a goddamn whirlwind. Billy and he work on and finish four major assignments in two weeks. Not every single one of Billy’s articles require a photographer, but Steve takes photos of even the small things Billy writes about, the fluff pieces that are still better written than most of the other articles from journalists on the paper.

Currently, they’re working on a political piece in favor of super-powered individuals, which feels so risque that Steve nearly says no out of his own worry. It’s been a growing sentiment in the world, sure, especially given the amount of weird shit that is happening on a regular basis even just in Metropolis.

Still… Steve doesn’t need to draw more unwanted attention to himself.

Billy, genius that he is, makes sure to focus the piece on a new grassroots nonprofit that’s popped up in the wake of the attacks to help affected families and businesses. Steve falls in love with the organization, S&S Metropolis, the first time he meets the two people running it. Aubrey and Jordan are passionate, down to earth, funny, and they bring up again and again how happy they are to have their organization featured in the Planet, and with Billy’s name on it, too. Steve knows Billy is down there today grabbing more quotes before he takes Aubrey and Jordan both to lunch. Again.

And, like, Billy has dated a lot of people over the few years Steve has known him, knows that Billy doesn’t really have a type so much as he likes a lot of different people, men and women and otherwise, and either of the girls running the organization fit Billy’s “type” which, as far as Steve can tell, is beautiful.

(Steve knows he’s a good-looking guy. Maybe he’d been a 9 or even a 10 in a backwater Indiana town - but he’s a 6 on a good day among the masses of Metropolis. There’s no way he could hold a candle to the type of people Billy goes after, and if Billy wants to date Aubrey or Jordan, or Guillermo from the news shop on the corner, or Lastenia from accounting, or Brad the foodie who’s high half the time but is really sweet, or- or whoever… it’s really none of Steve’s business.)

Steve is at his computer while Billy is schmoozing S&S, and something like lightning suddenly sparks through the air. He pauses in what he’s doing, looks out the window, and feels his heart drop into his stomach when the sky crackles open and reveals the yawning, black-and-fire chasm of _beyond_. It opens right over downtown - right where Billy is with Aubrey and Jordan at La Pupusa, right where it had opened up the last time. And this time? This time the portal is even bigger. A giant limb stretches out from the opening and Steve practically groans.

It’s a good thing Benny convinced him to start bringing his _uniform_ with him everywhere.

He leaves the building looking like any other harried, concerned citizen, finds an abandoned rooftop on which to change, and stuffs the bag on one of the balconies at work. Sans glasses, hair down, and newly-suited, Steve flies off into battle.

He actually enjoys the suit and its refined dark color, somewhere between a charcoal-gray and black, with golden yellow accents. Steve feels sharp and sleek. Not ostentatious, like superheroes in the comics, but effective and quick. Discreet. Steve likes the suit, and he likes the headpiece, this black bit of polycarbonate and metal formed into a diadem that curves over his ears and connects in the middle of his forehead in a point. The fabric is one of Benny’s own creations; it’s something that melds with its surroundings and, in Benny’s words, “ _The fabric refracts light in such a way that people will have a hard time pinning your location, even with heat-seeking missiles, because the refraction disguises your heat signature._ ”

The intricacies of his uniform are all very complex and it goes over Steve’s head, and Dustin keeps asking questions about it that Steve can’t answer.

He hasn’t mastered his laser vision, though, so when Steve flies in too close to be safe and squints his eyes like it would be that simple, he’s knocked aside by the tentacle-like limb coming out of the portal in the sky. It hits him hard, harder than it’s seemed to have done before, as a cloud of something bursts forth from the tear in time and space. Steve lands hard on the ground but he’s quick to rise and dust himself off, coughing into his arm. Whatever that stuff is coming out of the portal, it’s not good for him to breathe it in. He taps a button on the center of his chest and the communications, positioned near his ear in the diadem, come to life.

“Big Bear, look alive,” Steve announces, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. They’d come up with code names back when Benny finally gave them their _uniforms_ \- Steve hates calling them uniforms, like they’re cops or something equally as appalling. He and El are _superheroes_ , thank you very much. But Benny gets a stick up his ass any time Steve calls it a costume.

The code names, Benny had reasoned, would help keep their comm lines free from interference if they used _Superman_ and _Supergirl_. With all the attention on the unknown heroes of Metropolis and government regulation against superheroes, they needed all the help they could get in staying safe.

“We got company downtown. One big hole in the sky-” Steve cuts himself off when a third tentacle tries squeezing through.

He speeds up towards the portal and circles behind where the rift has opened up - it’s so weird to see it from behind, where the tentacles sprout from thin air - and he comes from the top to slam his arm down on the hard tentacle-thing. Maybe it was more like a bug’s limb, or the leg of a crab? But it twists, bubbles, constantly moving like a stream of blackened flesh. It’s so _strange_.

The monster behind the portal lets out a shriek that has Steve immediately on edge, his sensitive ears shaken by such a close, loud noise. It’s inhuman, that much is obvious, but the scream of pain is… it’s rattling, how sentient it is. This isn’t just a monster mindlessly wrecking Metropolis, unknowing of the damage it’s causing. Instead, it’s some sort of otherworldly beast who Steve is pretty damn sure has an agenda in its destruction; this is a monster, yes, but a monster who feels pain and who Steve is hurting. The knowledge makes him wince. 

But then a tentacle sweeps out and he slams into a brick wall that crumbles beneath the force. He falls inside, distracted from his own thoughts by the action at hand. Landing in a heap on the floor, the comms at his ear crackle to life and in comes Benny’s voice.

“Copy that, Black Hawk,” Benny says, and Steve can hear he’s a little out of breath - he was probably working and now Steve has drawn him into a fight. Granted, Benny is an adult, an adult with experience in this brand of vigilantism, and… really, Steve needs to calm down and let Benny help. “I’ve got Little Bird heading your way, ETA two minutes. Think you can handle it by yourself until then?”

Steve takes a deep breath, lets his spine turn into steel with a slow exhale. “Yeah. Yeah, I got this, Big Bear. Don’t let it take too long.”

“I’m en route, Black Hawk,” comes El’s voice over the comms, and even with a giant monster struggling to exit this portal ripped open into the sky above Metropolis, the sound of her voice brings a smile to his face.

“Can’t wait to see you, Little Bird!” Steve calls out, and feels a little bit of renewed vigor as he darts in to grab one of the limbs and pulls it with all his strength up, testing the boundaries of the portal.

The limb snaps clean off and a deluge of black liquid, more like sludge than blood, pours out and it pulls another horrific scream from the beast. The portal’s edge doesn’t move, but it seems to sear the not-flesh of the creature. Steve’s afraid to touch the portal even with the gloves on his hands, and even with his powers being what they are. This… this is otherworldly, something not of Earth, and Steve isn’t confident that he can handle a portal, not by himself at the very least. Portals are more El’s speed.

Cursing under his breath, Steve goes to make the same move as before to break off another one of the tentacle-like limbs, but the monster seems to know what he’s going to do and flings him down the street and clear through the side of a building. He collapses onto the floor, breathing heavily, his body _aching_. Steve and Dustin spent more than one summer testing the limits of Steve’s powers in secret, with only Robin as a witness to any of it, so it’s been _years_ since he’s really been pushed like this.

He leverages himself up and looks out the hole his body left, feeling guilty that someone is going to have to fix this mess. It’s just the staircase of an apartment building and no one got hurt, but it still _sucks_ , sucks that there’s shit happening in the city that needs superheroes to protect it from harm.

He gears himself up to get back into it, taking a strengthening inhale, when the comms come to life again.

“Little Bird incoming. Location, Black Hawk?”

Steve smiles. El’s in the game.

“Coming back, was tossed into an apartment building,” Steve answers, pushing out through the hole in the building and flying for the biggest portal where yet another limb is snaking out and down towards the street.

He goes for it, eyes flashing suddenly as he narrows his focus entirely on the twisting, bubbling arm and lasers fly out of his eyes, scorching the sidewalk and cutting through the tentacle to pull yet another horrific noise from the creature beyond the veil. When he reigns in his vision and looks up, sans lasers, he sees El in her own suit in the same dark gray but with aqua accents and he honestly thinks she looks like a real superhero - competent, professional, and fucking badass.

“Black Hawk, I’m gonna try to close the portal, keep the… things off of me,” El shouts out, no need for comms when they’re so close.

“Tentacles!”

“What?!” El yells back, looking incredibly confused.

“They’re- the things, they’re called tentacles!”

“Black Hawk, is this really the time?! Keep Little Bird clear until the portal closes!” Benny barks out from over the comms.

Steve winces, because yeah, Benny has a point.

It’s not familiar yet, using his eyes for laser vision, because Steve has fucking laser vision, but he’s getting better at controlling it. He tries zapping it up along the limb, cringing slightly at the sudden recoiling back into the portal and the screeching that ensued. The limbs all retreated, and Steve’s not sure whether he should assume that the monster is finally scared off, or if it’s gearing up for something else. But the portal is starting to stitch together again, and El’s nose is starting to bleed, and Steve swoops in to catch her when she gets weak, then flies her over to a rooftop. The portal cuts off the remaining tentacles coming through, tentacles which start falling from the sky and towards the ground.

Steve leaves El to collect these falling tentacles, feeling a little weak himself the longer he touches them. He lays them on the ground and stumbles away, leaning forward and bracing his hands on his knees as he catches his breath, then watches with a mixture of bewilderment and disgust as the limbs dissolve into a similar black goo.

“Hey!”

Glancing up, confused, eyes narrowed as he scans the street, Steve sees Billy jogging towards him and his heart stops right in his chest, stuttering before it starts to race. Steve nearly flies off, but those _eyes_ , they catch him in his tracks and Steve can’t fucking _move_. Can’t breathe. Billy stops a couple feet away, and looks at Steve with a kind of sparkle in his eye of which he’s always hoped to see… except it’s directed at his alter ego, not at _Steve_.

“Um-” and then Billy _giggles_ , he _blushes_ , and he ducks his head to look at the ground. Billy is acting like some smitten schoolkid and Steve is enjoying it, just a little, because Billy gives him all these reluctant laughs, reluctant smiles, but it’s directed at _Superman_. And it makes Steve giddy and sick to his stomach all at once. “Hey. Hi, um. I’m Billy Hargrove, and you’re- you’re Superman. Wow, okay, I can’t believe- anyway, I was wondering if I could interview y-”

Steve feels so torn because he knows this will help them at the paper, but he _really_ shouldn’t be interacting with the press at all, given his… unique position on the situation. That he’s Superman _and_ Billy’s coworker, his officemate, his goddamn _partner_ at the Planet.

However, almost immediately after Billy starts talking, a smaller portal rips open just above the street and these… these _creatures_ , looking like dogs but _not really_ like dogs all at once, start to jump out of the hole ripped open in the air. They both stand there shocked, mouths flopping open in incredulity, until one of the creatures turns towards them and its mouth blooms open, coming apart in four sections like a goddamn _flower_ from like, Jumanji or some shit, with these sharp barbs that could probably tear a man’s leg off.

“Run!” Steve tells Billy, and darts forward to start fighting once more.

He’s punching his way through the creatures, but he punches once hard enough to break the skin and it _burns_ his hand in a way he’s never really felt before. Hissing, he pulls his hand back sharply and narrows his eyes to laser his way through the rest of the creatures on the street, wincing once again at the screeches as the laser sears through their flesh, cutting them in two. The smell of their burnt flesh makes his nose wrinkle in disgust, and honestly, he feels like he’s weaker than normal. He looks at the portal in the street, rippling, and turns his vision onto that, burning the edge of it, and incredibly the portal expands.

“Fuck,” Steve bites out, wiping his arm across his mouth. He’s sweating, panting; wherever that portal leads to, it’s somewhere that makes Steve weak in ways he’s never experienced before. 

A scream, a human scream, rings out from behind him and he looks over his shoulder. Billy’s in the same place as he was before - probably closer to the portal, in fact, with his phone in hand - and now he’s being cornered by one of the creatures with its mouth flayed open, baring those needle-like barbs, and Steve’s heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“No,” he whispers desperately, clenching his teeth and flying as quickly as he can.

The creature still latches onto Billy’s leg, and Billy lets out a pained scream that has Steve’s blood running cold. He lasers through the dog, which dies almost immediately, a pained garble of a noise coming from it, and it slumps still attached to Billy’s leg. Billy, slumped against the brick of the building behind him, looks so pale. Steve kneels down in front of Billy, pries the petal-things away from his leg as gently as he can, and feels horrible when he sees blood seeping through Billy’s jeans.

El flies down from a roof, hovers in the street as she closes the portal, and touches down next to Steve. She looks at Billy’s leg, then at Steve. “Looks bad,” she finally says, eyebrows furrowed. “Hospital?”

Steve nods. “I’ll take him.”

Benny’s voice crackles in their ears. “You’ve got law enforcement coming for you. ETA in five minutes. Scatter.”

Then the comms go dead.

“Get home safe,” Steve tells her, carefully taking Billy into his arms in a bridal carry, and Billy’s arms are shaking as they curl around his neck. Steve turns his head slightly, catches the scent of coconut and pineapple from Billy’s shampoo, and his stomach swoops dangerously. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Billy answers, voice small and shy, and Steve has never heard Billy be small let alone _shy_. “I think so. Just… a lot of pain.”

Steve takes off, flying them towards the hospital with Billy cradled in his arms. “I’ll get you to the hospital pronto, promise. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” God, Steve just wants to kiss Billy’s temple reassuringly, but he just holds Billy carefully, firmly in his arms. “You’re… you’re that reporter, right? Billy Hargrove?”

“You know who I am?” Billy asks, sounding absolutely stunned, and Steve pulls back a little to grin at the look on Billy’s face. Apparently that’s enough to send Billy blushing again. And, while Steve’s not _happy_ that Billy’s reactions aren’t aimed at _Steve_ , he is enjoying seeing Billy off his game. “I mean, um, yes. Yeah, I’m Billy Hargrove.”

“I read all your articles,” Steve confesses, because it’s not like Billy knows it’s him. He’d have said something by now, knowing Billy - he’d give him that same phrase he uses from time to time, “ _Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?_ ” It’s the same phrase he used when Steve had initially gotten his job at the Planet after graduation. “The last one, about the restaurant raising money for the community even though they were impacted by the last attack?” Steve smiles. “ _It’s times like these when Metropolis pulls together that shows us how our community protects and serves each other._ It kind of sounded like you have some gripe with the police.”

“Law enforcement in general,” Billy admits, looking stunned that _Superman_ reads his articles. “And the law against superheroes. The criminalization of super-powered individuals-”

“ _-an an affront to the American Constitution, and the citizens within it_ ,” Steve quotes, smiling even wider. “It’s a bold statement to be making in this day and age.”

Steve’s words, _Superman’s words_ , seem to shock Billy back into silence. But it doesn’t take long to arrive at the hospital, and Steve sets Billy carefully down outside the ER. He can’t hang around for very long, but Billy grabs his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Billy breathes, and where he’d been pale before, he has color in his cheeks. Billy is _blushing_. Steve is absolutely thrilled at the sight. “Thank you so much, I- I don’t know what I would have done and you… you saved me.”

Billy leans in and presses their lips together, and Steve is shocked, yes, but his own eyes flutter shut for a long moment to savor the plush feel of Billy’s mouth against his own. Steve finally pulls back, looking at Billy’s lips before his gaze moves up to meet Billy’s blue, blue eyes. This close, closer than Steve has ever been to Billy before, Steve can actually appreciate the color of them - the color of the Pacific Ocean, a blue that seems both warm and clear all at once.

“Thank you,” Billy murmurs quietly, their gazes still locked.

“I’m here to save Metropolis,” Steve responds absently, still caught up in Billy’s eyes. He reaches up to push some of the hair from Billy’s forehead out of his eyes. “You’re… a really nice part of the city.”

Steve takes a breath and steps back. A nurse spots them and seems stunned at the sight of Steve in his uniform, the diadem, at _Superman_ at the hospital. He takes another step and gives this awkward little wave to Billy. “See you around, Billy Hargrove, star reporter. Keep writing and fighting the good fight.”

And then Steve flies away.

He doesn’t leave too soon, either, because when he glances back down, the police are pulling up with their guns drawn, and then he catches sight of Billy, head craned back to watch Steve, staring at him as he leaves. Steve has to fly back to the roof where he’d stashed his things and he starts to change, going as quickly as possible. He feels harried as he descends the fire escape from the roof and walks back to the Daily Planet. Heather tells him on his way into the building that Hopper called second-shift in early to cover the attack and that first shift has to pull longer hours, and Steve sighs hard because he’s so fucking tired after the attack, his whole body aches. All he wants to do is fall onto the couch, order a pizza, and drink beer with Robin until he passes out.

So Steve stays around, reaches out to the other photographers to understand what they’ve taken photos of, and grabs his camera bag to go take photos of downtown, specifically where the small dog-flower-type creatures had spilled out of the portal and onto the street. Where Billy had been attacked. Steve hears his camera creak under his fingers and has to catch himself from breaking his camera by holding it too hard.

He’d been so worried that he’d lose Billy and is still worried that some sort of infection might happen on his leg… if the creatures impacted Steve so much, who knows how Billy would be impacted by the bite on his leg.

Snapping a few more photos, including a shot of one of the buildings that had been hit by one of the tentacles, Steve goes back to the office and uploads his photos. When he checks his phone, he has three missed calls from Dustin, two from Robin, a text from El saying she got home safe, and a text from Billy telling Steve he’s at the hospital and won’t be back at the Planet tonight, but to get to work early tomorrow. “8am. Don’t be late. Bring coffee.”

And Steve… Steve knows Billy’s coffee order. Knows his breakfast order, too. He knows he’s whipped.

He finishes uploading the data card and shuts his computer down, calls Dustin to let him know that Steve is still alive, then calls Robin on the walk back to their apartment. As they end the call, there’s a pizza on the way and Steve has grabbed a twelve-pack from the liquor store next door to their building.

When he gets home, Steve flops onto the couch, cracks open a beer, and takes a long pull from it. Robin waits all of five seconds before poking him in the side.

“Give me _all_ the details.”

By the time he’s done, Robin is cackling and Steve is red in the face - not that Robin could even see his face, as he’s currently hiding it in one of the pillows on the couch. He kicks her thigh gently, jarring her into falling over onto her side where she continues to giggle. She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye when she looks at him.

“You know he’s going to write a piece about this, right? About you saving him?” Robin snickers, and pokes him in the side again. “And you’re going to have to take _photos_ for said piece? I can see the title now.” She spreads her hands in the air pointedly. “Superman Saves Star Reporter from Certain Death: City Survives Another Day.”

“It’ll be a better title than that,” Steve replies, and he’d deny it if anyone claimed he’s _whining_ but… okay, so he’s kind of whining. “Billy comes up with great titles.”

“Ohhh, Stevie boy,” she hums, reaching over to curl an arm around his shoulders. She pulls him into a half-hug. “You got it bad.”

Steve groans because he knows she’s right. Tomorrow’s going to be a pain in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you guys think Billy is going to act at the office? Does he have any idea that it’s Steve? What’s with all these portals?!
> 
> Leave a comment with any predictions you have! Or just leave a comment to let me know what you thought about the chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably the last chapter I’ll upload for a bit. Not sure when I’ll be able to upload the next chapter, though it’s written, so I wanted to post this one while I had the motivation. Going through some personal shit and not sure when I’ll be back.
> 
> I added some extra tags to make sure people understand certain aspects of the story, though this chapter is a little nicer.
> 
> So, I hope you enjoy.

“We’re going downtown,” Billy immediately declares when Steve stumbles into the office ten minutes late, and shoves a cup of coffee into Steve’s hand.

It’s his usual order, which surprises him because he didn’t think that Billy paid close enough attention to know his order. That warms him more than the hot coffee does.

Steve blinks blearily and takes a sip without question because he’s exhausted in a way he’s never felt before. Just… sore, and tired, and strained, and maybe a little hungover even if he burns through it faster, usually. Usually, because yesterday he got drunk from three beers and woke up with a headache the likes of which he’s never seen (at least, not since he graduated high school and went to Tina’s massive graduation party). He barely rolled out of bed that morning, then got sloppily dressed in a button-down and khakis. He knows Billy texted him to demand he bring coffee but at least he wasn’t too late, and maybe Billy knew somehow that he would be running behind. 

(Steve blames the extended fight with those creatures, the exposure to the spores or _whatever_ came out of the portal, and the black goo-blood that touched his skin, for his general lethargy. Robin and Benny both berated him last night for not being more careful about touching things from another planet, or wherever they’re from, but what was he supposed to do? _Not_ use his super strength against something attacking the city?)

“...Downtown,” Steve repeats slowly, walking towards Billy’s desk. He’s beside himself trying not to ask Billy how his leg is, because Steve wouldn’t know about it. It’s not until Billy stands up and hobbles a little that Steve lets out a breath of relief because now he can ask. “You okay?”

“Got attacked yesterday,” Billy replies, wincing from the pain, and steadies himself on the edge of the desk. He reaches for a single crutch Steve hadn’t noticed before, then jams it under his arm. He pauses and looks out the window thoughtfully. “Superman saved me.”

“Dude, you got attacked? And _the actual Superman_ saved you?”

“Yeah,” Billy breathes and Steve can only call the look on his face dreamy. Steve hides a smile by taking a sip of his own coffee. “Peeled the creature off my leg, even, and flew me to the hospital. That’s what we’re doing the next piece on.”

Steve narrows his eyes and frowns at Billy’s back. Robin was right. She’s not going to let him live it down, either.

“We’re doing a piece on… how Superman saved you?”

“He saved my life, Harrington,” Billy says slowly in that way he does when he’s trying not to snap at Steve. Which has been happening more often lately. Like Billy’s making an effort not to be a total asshole. He tears off a piece of paper from his notepad and hands it to Steve. “This is where it happened. Take some photos and we’ll go from there.”

It’s not a lot to go on, but Steve can’t help smiling as he grabs his things and heads from the office. Billy isn’t being a total dick, _and_ he got Steve coffee, _and_ it’s so obvious that Billy adores Superman.

And Billy has no clue that it’s Steve.

Steve spends the afternoon downtown taking photos of the destruction, the aftermath, the bodies of what the media is calling demodogs. He takes photos of firefighters cleaning up debris, and police officers taking notes, and even some suit-and-tie, federal agent-looking creeps talking to the cops. It makes him antsy, and he snaps a photo of them without thinking about it. He grabs another lunch at La Pupusa and finds Aubrey and Jordan, the girls running the S+S nonprofit, sitting at the bar.

“Hey! Steve!” They call out, waving him down. Steve laughs and comes over, shaking his head when they offer to buy him a drink.

“I’m on the clock,” he explains, hefting his camera bag tellingly. “How are you guys? You’re so lucky you got away okay. Billy got attacked by one of those things out there on the streets.”

“He did?!” Jordan asks, eyes going wide and she and Aubrey look at each other.

“Is he okay?” Aubrey continues.

“Superman saved him,” Steve says simply, and they break into twin grins and nod. Because of course he did. He tells them that Billy is walking with a crutch and after they’re appeased that Billy isn’t on the verge of death or something, they settle back down.

“You know, when we were talking to him yesterday about the article,” Jordan begins, taking a sip of her margarita, “he told us that you’re the best photographer at the paper. It’s no wonder that you guys got paired up!”

“He… said that?”

“Yeah!” Aubrey replies, smiling. “He’s so happy to have you on his side. You could tell from his smile. He said he used to have to convince you to work with him because he has a bad rep at the paper-”

That isn’t _quite_ right, because Billy does act like a diva most of the time, but Steve smiles anyway.

“-but he couldn’t stop talking about you. I think Jordan asked why he didn’t invite you and he _blushed_!”

“Billy blushed?!” Steve is calling bullshit. There’s no way. Billy Hargrove _never_ blushed.

“He did,” Jordan croons, cracking up. “He said he thought you were busy or something.”

Steve rolls his eyes, because he had been busy, busy editing photos and busy helping Gladys from HR come up with ideas for the company picnic next month. Everyone has a soft spot for Gladys, even Billy. Maybe especially Billy.

“Anyway, thank you for running the story about us,” Aubrey gushes, nudging her elbow into Steve’s. “It’s important that everyone knows how much Superman and Supergirl are doing for our city.”

Steve feels utterly touched by the sentiment from two girls who don’t even know that _he’s_ the one saving the city.

“Thank you for doing what you’re doing,” Steve says around a sudden lump in his throat. He stands up from the stool and sighs. “As Billy says, news waits for no man. Gotta run ladies. Keep up the good work.”

~

On his day off, one week after the attack, Steve gets a new pair of glasses. They’re round, gold-rimmed, and, most importantly, in his correct prescription. They look nice. He likes them and even when he’s trying different pairs on, no one seems to recognize him with his hair back. It boggles his mind that such a small change apparently makes such a big difference.

He comes to the office the next day with lunch plans with El, his hair back in a tight ponytail, and his new glasses settled on the bridge of his nose. He’s feeling good today, confident and secure, nowhere near the shaking fear when Benny discovered his and El’s secret. He knows for certain that his identity is safe - especially if his coworker for the past few years, the one with whom he now shares his office, doesn’t even recognize him after _kissing_ him.

When he walks into the office, Steve is surprised that Billy’s desk is empty with no sign that he’s been in yet this morning. Suspiciously, though, there’s a pack of Twix on his desk. They’re his favorite.

Billy tries to be subtle about it, but Steve found out early on in being Billy’s partner - and from having super powers - that Billy knows the favorite candy bar of everyone in the office, and keeps a stash handy in a locked drawer in his desk in case anyone is having a bad day. Then, he’ll leave it out when no one is looking. It’s sweet, especially since he tries to hide that side of himself from everyone around him, even Steve. 

And Steve didn’t have a bad day, but he’d come back into the office rather quiet and subdued from their latest article about some nice old ladies who had their house attacked by the creatures. Either way, it’s sweet - and it means Billy was thinking about him, to whatever capacity that might be.

It’s early, and Steve always assumed Billy came in way before the offices opened and left long after they closed, but maybe he’d been wrong considering the empty desk in their shared office. Settling into his own chair, Steve pushes his glasses up his nose and gets started on the newest piece.

Last week, they’d ran the piece about Billy’s attack and how Superman saved him, _Superman the Secret Savior: How the Masked Hero Saved My Life_. Hopper called Billy and Steve into his office the day after the paper dropped to tell them about how the Planet had more online subscriptions routed from that article and more papers bought with that front page headline than ever before. It’s been a boon, being teamed up with Billy, and this latest article, Steve knows, is the biggest thing to happen to him. To both of them, really.

Unfortunately, as of late, it’s… kind of gone to Billy’s head.

Billy’s been more insufferable than usual, pushing Steve’s boundaries and buttons in all the wrong ways. Meanwhile, Steve feels bad about Billy’s leg so he hasn’t been giving as much push-back to the reporter. It also doesn’t help that Steve’s got a crush the size of the Titanic on him and doesn’t want to rock the boat.

When Billy finally comes into the office a few hours later, a cane in hand instead of the crutch, Steve remembers that Billy had another doctor’s appointment that morning to get the wound left by the creature looked at and treated again.

Billy appears lost in his own little world, and it’s… it’s pretty cute, actually, because the line of his brow isn’t crinkled with intimidation nor irritation; it’s gentled by the faraway look on his face. His eyes are this soft sea blue, long eyelashes framing them and sweeping against the tops of his freckled cheeks. Even his mouth and those plush lips aren’t pulled into a sneer, or some cocky tongue-licking grin that always makes Steve frown because it’s _distracting_ , and instead he’s got a small smile at his mouth.

“What’s the verdict?” Steve asks, leaning back in his chair and adjusting his glasses atop his nose. “Doc gonna chop your leg off?”

Billy jumps like he didn’t notice Steve was in the office quite yet. “Got the bandages off, no necrosis. It’s healing.” The cocky smirk flies to his mouth. Steve already misses the smile. “Trying to get rid of me so soon, Harrington? Don’t you know that _I’m_ the one who-”

“-got us to the front page that broke all the Planet’s records?” Steve finishes with a sigh, because he’d been hoping today would be a good day for them after Billy left him that pair of Twix. Apparently, he’d gotten his hopes up because Billy is back on this self-aggrandizing bullshit. “Yeah, I know.” Steve locks his computer and pushes himself away from his desk. He shifts his glasses and looks at Billy as he recites, _“He didn’t need to save me. He didn’t need to fly me to the hospital. He didn’t need to make sure I was okay before he left to save the rest of the city, but he did. Superman is the compassionate hero we’ve been waiting for to help our city through its darkest hours. If everyone had a little more compassion, perhaps the world would be a better place.”_ It’s from that very same article, the one that may go on to win them an award in journalism.

Billy looks caught off guard by the quote, eyes widening before they narrow in on Steve.

“What are you trying to say, Harrington?” Billy huffs, sitting down in his chair heavily and crossing his bulging arms over his chest.

Apparently a fucked up leg isn’t enough to put Billy off of arm and chest days. Steve doesn’t let himself get distracted by it, though, because he’s kind of pissed. 

Billy gets this haughty look on his face, lips twisted in a mocking sneer. “You trying to say I don’t have compassion?”

Steve just grabs his bag and his phone, shaking his head at the blonde. “I have lunch plans. I’ll see you later.”

If he slams the door when he leaves, well, Steve thinks Billy deserves a little rough treatment in return.

~

“So, Miss El, where were you born?” Steve hears Heather asking, and he can see from the tense line of El’s shoulders that the question hits too close to her weak spot.

He collects El from the front desk, saving her from Heather’s sweet but invasive line of questioning, and takes them up to one of the outdoor terraces. It’s warm enough now that they can sit outside, and they settle across from each other at one of the tables. It’s so endearing to see her so fascinated with the small things in life, like the view of downtown Metropolis, or the red umbrella over their table. El brought them lunch from Benny’s, having stopped in to get their recalibrated suits after the training session last night. Handing over the bag with a box, seemingly a normal present, she then produces their lunch and they start to tuck into their food.

The cartons contain Steve’s staple and her own newest creation - a waffle with bacon and sausage crumbled on top and smothered in butter and syrup - in cardboard containers, the ones she’s finally convinced Benny to start using because _apparently_ El is a little environmentalist in addition to being a superhero.

Steve is so proud of her.

They’re chatting idly about college applications and how tedious and nerve-wracking the process can be when someone comes up to their table. Steve doesn’t even need to hear the cane clicking against the brick to know that it’s Billy; he can tell with his super-hearing from the sound of Billy’s breathing the moment the sliding door to the terrace opened up. He looks up at Billy standing there, his features carefully schooled into an assessing look.

“Harrington,” Billy greets, sliding a look over at El before visually dismissing her with a slow blink as his stunning blue gaze fixates on Steve instead. “I need you to get me another filing cabinet. With all the superhero information coming in, I need more space. There are a few up a couple floors.” He gestures vaguely at the cane and his leg, giving Steve an obviously fake smile. “Can’t do it myself, after all.”

“ _Um_ ,” El pipes up, and Steve looks back at her feeling guilty that he let his work partner interrupt their lunch. “I’m pretty sure Steve is on his lunch break.”

“News stops for no man,” Billy quips, sending her a wicked smile that has something in Steve sinking. That look never bodes him well. “Harrington here knows that. It’s how I’ve gotten front page with every article we put out. I get the scoop and Harrington makes it pretty with his pictures.” Steve feels his shoulders slump at the way Billy downplays his work. His career. It’s more than making things pretty. “Only times he’s ever made the front page were because of me. Everyone else in the photography department is incompetent.” Steve ducks his head, and it’s not to hide a smile or a blush like he usually does around Billy, but rather his embarrassment at being dragged in front of someone so important to him - and by someone so important to him. “Steve’s worked here for just under a year and he finally got his big break because the Chief took a liking to him. He’s lucky, you know? He almost flunked out of college. It’s a good thing he went for photography or he’d never make it at the paper.”

“Why do you have to be so mean?” El asks out of nowhere, and her eyes flash in a way where Steve almost worries she’s exposing her true nature.

Billy is stunned by the sudden reaction for a short moment, but just as quickly he puts on the cocky bravado once more. “I’m not being mean. I’m just being honest.”

“Honesty is important,” El says, “but you’re trying to hurt his feelings. And that is not just mean. It’s rude, too.”

“Now, wait a minute. Who do you-”

“I don’t know you,” El states bluntly, cutting him off. Steve’s eyebrows raise in surprise because people rarely cut off Billy Hargrove. “I came here to have lunch with my cousin and you’re being rude and demanding. I don’t care who you are. I just want you to leave us alone. And for you to stop ordering him around like he’s your _servant_.” Steve winces, but he’s also a little proud since this is the most he’s heard her speak about anything other than her powers. It’s also the first time someone, beyond Robin or Dustin, has stuck up for him. “He works here too. He got a promotion too. He wouldn’t have gotten it for nothing, even if someone took a liking to him. Talent is talent and Steve deserves to be treated with respect.”

Billy’s mouth flops open uselessly, too tongue-tied to respond properly because he’s so used to everyone cowering and caving to his steel-sharpened comments. Steve’s wide eyes take in everything, from El’s glare to Billy’s fish-like appearance.

“Billy,” Steve calls out softly, and the blue eyes that never fail to leave Steve fucked up and _wanting_ snap over to look at him again. “We’ll catch up later, okay? I’ll grab you another filing cabinet after I finish lunch.”

Billy’s face goes stone-cold, and Steve watches helplessly as the walls go back up. It’s like he’s back at his old desk sitting across the hall from Billy, watching the blonde go about his day like Steve doesn’t even exist.

As much as he feels touched that El stood up to Billy for him, his heart cracks a little from the pressure of the overwhelming emotion swelling and storming inside of him.

“Sure thing, Harrington,” Billy snaps at him, all razor-teeth and fake smiles. “See you around.”

He leaves without another word and the silence stretches out between the two superheroes left in Billy’s wake.

El looks away as she takes a bite of her lunch, chews, and swallows.

“Well… he’s a little dramatic.”

He sighs, because she isn’t wrong.

“You shouldn’t let him be so mean to you,” El continues, taking another bite. “I get that you like him...” Steve chokes on his own food, coughing roughly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to let him walk all over you.” Steve beats a fist against his chest, still trying to clear his windpipe. Is he really that obvious about it? El smirks. “Steve, I can _read minds_. And… yes, you’re really thirsty.”

Steve gapes at her for using that word, then throws a fry at her.

~

Billy isn’t in the office after Steve finishes his lunch and sees El off, and while there’s a bundle of nerves twisting in the pit of his stomach, Steve tries not to let it get to him. Too much, at least. Sometimes, Billy can be like this. He gets a little testy, goes out to blow off steam, goes out to get his mind off of things, then comes back a little calmer.

But Billy can also hold a grudge the size of the Pacific Ocean.

So Steve stuffs it all down, represses his feelings, and goes about procuring a dolly with Heather’s help. As easy as it would be for him to move the cabinet (and a desk, and anything else they would need, really) by himself, he has no doubt that juggling a filing cabinet down the stairs would draw some stares. Heather mentions the sixth floor, two floors up from his office with Billy, holding some extra furniture.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever been on the sixth floor. The seventh holds the printing department, the fifth is where Hopper’s office is located. And when Steve gets to the sixth floor, he finds it as empty as a ghost town. There’s even a sheaf of paper that sweeps across the hall like a bit of tumbleweed in the desert.

The sixth floor is… eerie.

But Steve is used to eerie. He’s used to weird, after fighting monsters and creatures from another dimension.

He checks a few offices, finds nothing but empty, worn out desks or broken chairs, until he comes to an office with a giant desk, several filing cabinets, and more wooden side tables than Steve can fathom could fit in a single room. He starts stacking them easily, uncaring of the bulk and weight, until there’s enough space on the floor to move a filing cabinet out. He picks the biggest one, figuring Billy could use the extra space, but when he hears paper files moving inside he sets it back down and attempts to open one of the drawers.

Now, Steve knows he should leave well enough alone. He’s been told that more than once in his life, after all, that his curiosity gets the best of him.

But Steve didn’t start working at the paper for shits and giggles.

The drawers are empty but for one that’s locked. When he scours the desk in the room, though, he finds inside of one of the larger drawers, the handle breaking where he forces it open, a small key on a metal ring taped under the locked drawer. He spins the metal around his index finger and takes a breath as he tries the key in the lock. It turns. The drawer slides open with a little pressure.

Inside, there are exactly three folders filled with papers, and when Steve rifles through the first two, he notes that most of them have lines and names and dates blacked out, information redacted.

The third folder is filled with old articles from the Planet all about the old vigilante. Steve reads the headlines, sees the dates. Does the math in his head, even if it takes an extra minute for him to do so.

A mysterious hero. Benny’s brother.

Steve takes a breath and looks around as if he’s about to be caught in the act. If anyone connected him to this, to superheroes and to Benny’s brother, to Benny, to _El_... He didn’t break a sweat from moving the furniture around, barely warmed up from the slight exercise, but the very thought of getting found out causes a shiver to run down his spine.

Steve slides the file under his arm and he takes the steps as quick as possible - jumping down a flight and then the next when the stairwell turns out empty - and hurries to his office to shove the folders into his messenger bag. His hands are shaking as they push through his hair; he tugs gently at the ends.

The next morning, when Billy comes in, Steve is already there editing photos with his glasses perched at the end of his nose. Steve watches from the corner of his eye, a hopeful flutter in his stomach when he sees Billy’s face light up.

“This is the one with the locked drawer,” Billy says excitedly, his eyes gleaming with the promise of uncovering some secret. He tests the drawer Steve unlocked and his shoulders slump when it opens easily. Then, he turns speculative eyes on Steve. “Did you open this?”

Steve doesn’t look away from the computer, blurring the background of one of the photos, and swallows thickly to collect himself. A bead of sweat runs down the center of his back before getting absorbed in his undershirt. “What? Oh, the cabinet. No, I found it like that.”

Billy pouts and shuts the drawer with a definitive click. He shuffles over to his desk, cane leaned up against the side when he falls down onto his chair. Steve lets out a small sigh of relief that Billy doesn’t ask any more questions about it.

“Thanks, Harrington,” Billy says, voice quiet, and if Steve were a lesser man, if he didn’t have powers, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He turns his head, seemingly distracted, and looks at Billy. “Did you say something?”

“Nope,” Billy replies quickly, lips popping around the ‘p’ in a way that Steve shouldn’t find so cute. “You get the photos finished for-”

“-Your love letter to Superman?” Steve asks, eyebrow arching as he gazes at Billy over the tops of his glasses.

He turns back to his computer, utterly satisfied with the spluttering excuses coming from behind him.


End file.
